


we bury our dead alive

by selenedaydreams



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, character death mention, threesome mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5317820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Philip is five years old when Alexander first notices the similarities: the way his hair seems to always fall in perfect waves, the way his eyes crinkle in a particular way when he smiles, and God that smile. </p>
<p>That smile is undeniable and yet it takes him another two years to stop denying it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we bury our dead alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plinys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/gifts).



> There is an infamous letter in which in appears that Alexander was suggesting that he wanted a threesome on his wedding night so I, of course, had to turn that comical request into a terribly angsty fic. Enjoy.

Philip is five years old when Alexander first notices the similarities: the way his hair seems to always fall in perfect waves, the way his eyes crinkle in a particular way when he smiles, and God that smile.

That smile is undeniable and yet it takes him another two years to stop denying it.

 

* * *

 

Philip is seven years old when Alexander finally admits the truth to himself.

Eliza is sitting with him on the floor as they play in front of the fireplace with a new set of wooden blocks that Angelica had sent him for his birthday. The wood crackling softly behind them is a temporary distraction but Alexander can’t continue ignoring them forever, especially since until this moment he always felt as if part of him was ignoring their son.

Their son. Her son. _His_ son.

Alexander looks away from the pair for a long moment and Philip must notice because he’s dropping his blocks back on the floor and rushing towards him with a far too familiar concerned look no his face.

“Daddy, are you okay?”

Alexander wonders if there’s ever an acceptable way to tell children the honest truth. If there is, he has yet to figure it out. Instead, he smiles down at Philip, (what else can he do?), before picking him up from around the waist and setting him on his knee.

“I’m alright, darling.” If only. “I’m just tired. Who would have ever thought that forging a new nation would be so incredibly exhausting?”

Jokes are fine. Jokes are always fine because they serve as another distraction, one that seems to be appeasing Philip. Of course, jokes don’t work with everyone.

“Philip, why don’t you go and get ready for bed? It’s getting late.” Eliza says softly, speaking to him but all the while looking directly at Alexander.

Alexander hears her tell Philip not to forget to kiss him goodnight at the same time that Philip strains up to press his lips to his cheek before scurrying off in the direction of his bedroom, leaving him and Eliza alone.

As soon as Philip is gone the tension in the room rises and Alexander feels crushed by the way Eliza is looking at him in that moment. She has only ever looked at him with the kind of pure devotion someone like him doesn’t deserve, that no one ever can possibly deserve, and Alexander doesn’t think he can bear it.

Eliza doesn’t say anything, she simply walks slowly towards him and takes Philip’s place on his knee. When her arms encircle his neck to embrace him, Alexander immediately buries his face in the crook of her neck and lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

“What is it, love?” Her fingers smooth through his hair in soothing motions and it’s all just a little too much for him to be able to hold it together anymore. “What’s wrong?”

“He looks so much like him.”

His voice strains in a way that only tears are capable of causing so she pulls him closer, holds him tighter, and presses her lips to his hair even though she knows it’s a futile gesture. Deep down she knows that nothing will truly work. It’s a wife’s job to console her husband though, so she tries anyway.

“I know.” Her voice strains too but she holds back her tears for his sake. “I know he does.”

It may have taken Alexander years to realize the unusual circumstances surrounding their son but it only took Eliza a few weeks. A mother knows.

A mother always knows.

When Philip smiled at her for the first time she felt her heart shatter. It wasn’t Alexander’s smile and it wasn’t her smile either. It was the same smile she had seen on the man accompanying Alexander the very night they had met.

It was the same smile Alexander still mourned the loss of.

Their wedding night is a blur of too much alcohol, expensive dresses, and the distinct memory of waking up the next morning pressed between two warm bodies. She doesn’t regret it though.

Alexander had been so happy that night and despite Eliza’s own apprehensions, she realized that sharing him may not be as terrible as she had first thought. John had no intentions of taking Alexander away from her and Alexander never once stopped looking at her with the same passionate and loving gaze she had witness the first time their eyes met. It was unusual, the bond they shared, but that didn’t mean it was wrong.

When she found out she was with child she had been overjoyed and in that blissful moment of happiness and she didn’t care about what had happened on her wedding night. She would love her child regardless of who the father turned out to be.

The happiness was short lived though, because her revelation came at the same time as a certain letter. Eliza would have never imagine that the same language, the same words that Alexander cherishes would be able to cause him such unimaginable pain.

She still has the letter, keeps it tucked away in a box beneath their bed with other priceless possessions that are for their eyes only. Alexander looks at it from time to time for reasons she will never have the heart to ask. Mourning is a personal journey, especially mourning for someone who took a piece of your heart to their grave with them.

“I miss him.”

She’s never heard him say those words out loud before but the initial shock bubbles over quickly. “I miss him too, Alexander. I do.”

It’s not a frivolous comment meant only to comfort, she truly means it. How can she claim to love Alexander and not miss the only other person in this world that held his heart?

Alexander doesn’t love the way other people do, Eliza figured that out before he had asked for her hand. He loves too much and too boldly at times that one person cannot be possibly expected to shoulder it all. And yet, for the past seven years she has done so.

“I look at him…I look at our son and I see him, Eliza.”

The damp fabric of her dress is clinging to her skin now but she continues holding him as tightly as possible. “Profit from it then. Do not let this gift go to waste by continuing to deny it.”

Alexander looks up at her in confusion and she kisses his tears away before continuing. “Philip is a constant reminder of one of the bravest soldiers this country has ever seen. A brilliant solider that loved freedom and equality so much that he made the ultimate sacrifice for something he believed so deeply in.”

“Eliza, please-”

“I hope that our son is at least half as brave and loyal as John was. I hope that he will follow in his footsteps.”

She doesn’t realize that she’s crying too until she feels Alexander’s fingers gently brushing the wetness from her cheeks. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I would rather be the judge of that.”

He kisses her then, soft and gently, cradling her cheeks to keep her close and for now, that’s enough. She is more than enough.


End file.
